The Best 'Acceptable' Ever
by teenybirdy
Summary: Andy gets the best 'acceptable' ever from the editor of her dreams. **The title sucks, but I wanted to post**


**A/N:** This prompt is once again off the Facebook DWP - MirAndy - Andy/Miranda, from the one and only, incomparable, Fabber0oz.

**Summary:** Andy gets the best _**'acceptable'**_ ever from the editor of her dreams.

**Disclaimers:** Don't own them, don't make money off them, they do however inspire me to write.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

Andy had been drunk, and her drunkenness had caused her to do something ridiculously stupid.

It had seemed like an awesome idea at 1 am as she lay in bed trying to get the room to stop spinning as she squinted at the screen of her cell phone with one eye. But upon waking up at almost noon, and sifting through her recollections of the night, and with the notification icon flashing dangerously at her, she knew she could possibly be in a world of hurt.

She blamed Nigel, of course. This was all his fault after all. He'd swept into the Mirror office the evening before at exactly 6 pm and perched on the edge of her desk breaking her focus on the obituary she was writing for some old dear who had committed her life to blind cats.

Trying to expound on the goodness of the person, who frankly seemed boring as fuck, was hard, but it was her life after leaving Runway. She'd yet to be given a break, to let her creative juices flow, and she often despaired over the triviality of the stories she' had to trawl through each day for the last four months.

Where was the gritty news someone could really sink their teeth into? Surely not on her desk. She'd learnt quickly that these stories were handed out to the more senior reporters, even as she knew she could write better than most of them in her sleep.

To say she was disheartened was an understatement, but her life of glamour had been over as soon as she'd thrown that fucking annoying ringing cell into the Fountain in the middle of the Place De La Concorde and quit Runway without a backward glance.

To say she had regrets was also a given, but she could never go back. Her only option was to move forward, working from the bottom of her chosen field.

Gone was her five-year plan to be in an editorial position, gone was her hope of joining the journalistic elite who wrote for the New Yorker or Vanity Fair. She now simply held onto the hope she could pay the exorbitant rent on her shitty apartment and remain in New York.

At least that way she would still get to see Miranda Priestly, albeit from a distance.

Thinking of the cocktails she'd chugged and the conversation between her and Nigel, she groaned loudly. She would have to learn to say no, no matter how hard it seemed.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

Nigel never took no for an answer and when he wanted his way, he was very persistent. As he'd shut the lid of her laptop, grinning smugly, she'd tried to prise it open again only to be met with strong resistance. For such a camp diva, Nigel was certainly stronger than he looked. She'd missed him more than she possibly imagined. Unable to resist, she'd arched her eyebrow at him questioningly only to be given a wide smile.

"Come along, Six. It's time to celebrate." Nigel stated mysteriously.

"What are we celebrating?" She'd asked curiously.

Nigel's smile widened. "All will be revealed, as soon as we have a Mojito in hand. Tonight's on me." Sliding off her desk, he held his hand out to her and she'd taken it without hesitation. It would be good to have a night on the town with her old friend.

As they'd settled into the booth of the trendy bar Nigel favoured, he'd given her a piercing look. "At least you have not forgotten all the lessons you learned from us at Runway." He sipped his drink. "But you don't seem happier for your career change."

Andy had rolled her eyes before shrugging. "It's a job." She swallowed a large mouthful of her drink and winced at the strength.

Nigel pursed his lips. "You should have stayed. To leave because of what happened was ridiculous."

Andy was stunned. "That's not...no! That wasn't the reason I left...I mean the bullshit of it all shocked me, but I..." She couldn't finish the sentence and she didn't need to, Nigel saw beyond her words, an uncanny ability he'd always had.

"So you fell for it too, her power, her status." Nigel shook his head. "I thought you were different from all the other silly girls."

"I am, it's not the usual...Jesus, Nigel." Andy drained the contents of her glass and Nigel gestured to the server for two more.

Catching her eyes once more, he sat back seemingly stunned by what he found in them. "You love her."

"No, I don't. Well...I mean..." The server interrupted her and she sipped her drink as Nigel requested four more. At her raised eyebrow he grinned.

"Don't be like that, Six. Do you seriously believe you are the only one who felt something? Miranda's been an absolute Devil since Paris. Not one of those silly girls Emily hires is remotely good enough for her now she's had a taste of Andréa Sachs. She forbid Emily from hiring another brunette and Serena heard her muttering that Andréa wouldn't be so stupid as to allow Irv into her office in the middle of a conference call with some Japanese investors. They currently have a vapid blonde running around bringing Miranda tepid coffee. The bets are on that she won't last the month."

"I don't believe she feels anything for me. She told my new boss I'm her biggest disappointment, Nige." Andy felt the sting of tears and downed her second drink quickly as the server brought them two more each.

"Yet she didn't blacklist you," Nigel stated softly, his eyes gentle.

"Yeah, but look where I am, at what I'm doing...I'm not exactly making a difference," Andy muttered petulantly.

"And that brings us to the celebration." Nigel grinned happily as Andy's head snapped up. "You are looking at the new Editor-in-Chief of Men's Runway. We finally got approval off the board and our first issue goes to press in three months." His smile widened. "And I want you as an editorial assistant."

Andy's eyes widened in disbelief and she sputtered on her drink. "But...but..."

Nigel placed his hand on top of hers. "It was Miranda's idea, Six. She told me I needed someone efficient who was unafraid of getting her hands dirty." He licked his lips. "It's true she looked like she'd sucked on a lemon as she mentioned your name, but she did say it."

Andy's laughter rang out across the room causing heads to turn. Shaking her head, she grinned at the bald man. "You're on, Nigel, but I'll need a pay rise."

"Yes, you will, for a new wardrobe especially." He grinned at her good-naturedly as they clinked glasses and toasted the new opportunity.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

Ignoring her cell, Andy moved gingerly to her bathroom and peed. Finishing up, she glanced in the mirror and groaned again. God knows how she would manage to tame the thick nest before heading to the office for her laptop.

Stripping her clothes she stepped into the shower and let her thoughts roam to her return home the night before.

Crashing into the wall, she laughed when she spilt the contents of her purse on the floor. Bending, she swayed as she picked up her cell and stumbled towards the small kitchenette.

Finding a glass seemed like a massive chore, so placing her cell face down on the counter, she stuck her mouth under the tap, turned the faucet and gulped the cold water greedily until she felt bloated, telling herself that the amount of water would surely stave off the huge hangover she was sure to have.

When she got into bed, she felt the room spin and giggled. Looking at her cell with one eye open, she scrolled through her Facebook feed and spotted a meme that caught her attention.

Her mind wondered to what Miranda's reaction would be to such a thing, certainly not 'OH MY GOD, I'M CRYING.'

Thinking of the beautiful editor had her pulling up her photo app and scrolling to the pictures she had accumulated over her time as Miranda's assistant, grateful for backing them up to the cloud. It wasn't that she was a stalker, but there were one or two photos she'd come across of her stood with Miranda, most predominantly some from Paris at the Valentino show.

She stroked her thumb against the screen and wished she could touch the woman with gentleness in real life. She considered Nigel's words about Miranda that evening and made the decision to at least reach out to the woman.

**_Here's what I'm thinking..._**

Andy checked her spelling carefully before sending the message. Her cell pinged almost immediately.

**_Who is this and what are you thinking?_**

Andy grinned and started typing slowly, occasionally referring to the Facebook meme and tweaking it to suit her needs.

**_You and me. A real date. Not like how kids do it these days, like a real date. I'll pick you up, say 5:30 pm, with flowers, a semi-reasonable car, a pretty woman (That's you as if you didn't know) First, we'll grab dinner. Your favourite place obviously. Talk for like an hour over dinner. Then, we'll catch a movie, the best one out. Like Death Becomes Her at the IFC or something equally awesome. THEN, we'll go get ice cream. I'll get a mint choc chip and you get your favourite Lemon Sorbet, and we can sit there and low key fall in love with each other while we watch the world go by and talk about life. Then, I'll have you home by your twin imposed 10 pm curfew, and if I'm lucky, I'll get a hug and a kiss goodnight..._**

Andy paused before hitting send, suddenly nervous. What seemed like a good idea now seemed like the worst thing she could ever do. With her thumb hovering over the send button, her eyes closed and her and as the room spun once again, her digit hit the screen.

She looked down to see the message had sent. Tapping away quickly she tried to explain.

**_I put a lot of thought into that..._**

Unable to keep her eyes open she hit send halfway through the sentence and passed out.

Unable to believe how incomparably stupid she had been, Andy stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around herself before wrapping her hair in another.

Moving back to her bedroom, she sat on the edge of her unmade bed and eyed her cell as if it was a venomous snake. The notification status was still blinking.

Taking a deep breath, she took the cell into her hand and swiped to unlock the screen. She saw the messages still open and closed her eyes. Searching for courage deep within herself, she opened her eyes and scrolled to the end of the messages and she stared at the first of two messages. One from the night before and one from this morning.

**_You still haven't told me who this is._**

She grinned at the lack of negative response and looked down again, her eyes skipping over the five words. Her eyes widened in surprise as hope flared in her chest.

**_Acceptable, Andréa. Please be prompt._**

Andy continued to stare at her cell, not quite able to believe that Miranda had agreed to a date, with her. It was the best **_'acceptable'_** she'd ever received from the editor.

Shaking herself from her stupor, she jumped up and moved quickly to her closet. Holy shit, she was taking Miranda Priestly on a date. What the actual fuck could she wear that would impress the Queen of Fashion?

**xxxxxxxxxx**


End file.
